


Pandora's Box

by Princess_Kally (battlecities)



Series: Pandora's Box [1]
Category: MapleStory
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battlecities/pseuds/Princess_Kally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wondered why your character's eyes automatically glare when they get hit? Perhaps it's a nifty piece of programming. Or perhaps the reason is much, much darker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: MapleStory belongs to Asiasoft and Nexon and Wizet(did I miss anyone?). I don't own. This is purely a fanmade fanfiction. Cerasus-hime belongs to me though.
> 
> This was the first fanfiction I posted online. My writing style has changed a lot since then.

_**"** I was told that I am just one of the countless specks of dust on this planet... _ _But that is something I cannot yet comprehend. **"**_

"Ouch! Fuck that hurt!" She swore as another Skeledog barged into her. Red pixel eyes narrowed in pain and annoyance. She curled her lips into a slight snarl. She may have been immortal, but damn it, it hurt! She cursed at her  _player_ , the one who controlled her movements from behind a computer for being so clumsy and stupid. Who was she? For the sake of confidentiality, we can only give you her nickname. Cerasus-hime. Princess of the cherry blossoms.

Che. Not player... More like... Deus. Deus. Latin for 'god'. A rather apt name, Cerasus-hime thought rather wryly. For her Deus was the one who controlled her every movement, every action. If she was hit, it would be because of the Deus. If she died, it would be because of the Deus. Not that death mattered to them.

No. For the Deus, it was something like: [ Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe is me. My "character" has died and lost a few EXP points. Oh... WOE!]

Feh. What was the loss of a few EXP points as compared to dying, then experiencing excruciating pain and she was torn through space, then reconstructed, agonising pixel by agonising pixel?

She was easily resurrected. They all were. A few EXP points gone here and there, and a tombstone dropping out of nowhere. A click or a push of a 'enter' button and they were back at town.

Simple, yes? Painless, no. It hurt. It was agonising pain, being reconstructed. And Cerasus-hime had had her fair share of dying.

She gave a mental shout of triumph as she was directed into a safe spot, perhaps one of the only on the map. She was sat into her Maple Chair. It seemed her Deus had gone for a toilet break. Thank gods.

With a sigh, Cerasus-hime laid back into her chair, snuggling into the soft material. She let out a soft "Mmnn..." as the hot rays of the Perion sun hit her pale face. Another pity. She would never be able to tan, unless her Deus forked out some money and gave it to the almighty Powers of EVIL (also known as Asiasoft, Nexon and other affiliates) for a skin tone change card. A pity. Her bright red eyes flickered towards her silent companion and she smirked.

"Remind me again why we're doing this, Mir-chan." She drawled out as she lazily arched her body in a half-hearted stretch. Cerasus-hime loved tormenting Mir. They had a love-hate relationship. It was complicated. And had started before... Before this... Farce of a half life came about.

The dragon gave a discontent grumble and muttered. "Because the evil, but almighty programmers at the Asiasoft a.k.a. the Powers of EVIL, made a stupid quest."

"For...?"

"Me. They want you, or rather, our Deus, to collect 50 Skeledog bones so that-" Mir raised her claws and did an imitation of quotation marks, "I would exchange them for one of my scales."

"Yes..." Cerasus-hime made sure to draw out the word as long as possible, sardonic amusement oozing through her voice. She internally smirked as Mir shuffled around, looking pensive.

"Well, at least you get some benefits... " She sighed, mockingly envious. "You're not the one getting battered by 165 damage per brush by Skeledogs and Mummydogs..." She flung her arms out, and announced with what Mir had, once upon a time, nicknamed it Cerasus-hime's 'stage voice'. "All, all, come and see. Come and see poor, poor Cerasus-hime being beaten and bruised by the Merciless Undead!"

* * *

Mir winced as she heard the capital letters. If there was one thing that she admired Cerasus-hime for, then it was the ability to produce drama. Aye... Those were such happy days...

You see... Once upon a time, in a land not so far away from here, there lived two girls. Rivals in love, academics and sport. They were friendly-rivals, as they both shared a secret.

They were both  _Gift_ -ed. It meant that they could access a power, tentatively dubbed  _magic_.

One day, Mir was given an offer she "couldn't" refuse. Or rather, shouldn't have refused. Power, money, riches, jewellery and a scholarship to a prestigious, and expensive university. At "no" cost whatsoever. She refused. She was content with what she had (because at that point, she had been reasonably well off, and besides, who wouldn't be wary of such a shady offer?) and didn't want what they offered.

It was then that things turned ugly. They had decided to take her by force. She was a prisoner trapped in her own mind. A spell, that broke into the deepest, darkest pits of her mind and trapped her in it. She signed her name on the paper. Puppetry magic. It was then that sealed both her, and Cerasus-hime's fates.

Their names and bodies were stolen from them, and their spirits placed into a crystal. When the time came, some unsuspecting Mapler would create a character, and their souls would be used for that purpose. They were re-named and their bodies were rebuilt. Their identity, completely stripped from them.

Perhaps it was a cruel, whismical thing done by Asiasoft. Or perhaps it was a strange chance of fate, but somehow, Mir and Cerasus-hime had ended up together.

Asiasoft. The almighty powers of evil. The ones who had trapped them in here. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing that they could do about it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

But hope.

On that fateful day, Pandora's box had been opened. Now, it was time to wait for the hope to escape.

_**"**...Vanished into the early summer wind; the two of us can't go back to the way we were. **"**_


	2. Pendulum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She jumps, she moves, she screams, she laughs, she is insane. When death is but a sham, what is there to do, but go insane?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own MapleStory. MapleStory belongs to Asiasoft, Wizet and Nexon. I do not make profit from this piece of writing. All original concepts are my own.
> 
> Oh the nostalgia. On "what ordinary souls trapped in (this version) of MapleStory become."
> 
> If I ever write a part three, it'll probably be on character deletion. Or maybe a character who likes their Deus. (probably a masochist -,-)

_The pendulum swings._

__Back and forth._ _

_

_Time is ticking._

_ _

_Sanity is lost._

_

_An unheard scream echoes._

oOoOoOo

She climbs-

each movement the same as the last, a set loop of movements, set to be done in the same way each time. She is tired, tired of the same old scenery, time and time again, tired of the same old  _repetition_  and pattern, forever looping, round and round, never stopping. She wishes for fresh air ( _a_ _sharp intake of breath,_ _a unique smell, of freshness, just like the air after the rain),_ the continuous, but ever changing sway of the trees ( _which she'll never see again,_ _never, because of a stupid mistake),_  bringing a new image, slightly different from the last, forever unique from the rest.

.

.

.

_The pendulum swings._

She jumps-

off the uneven platform, built with pixels, shaped in the image of a branch ( _how she yearns for true texture and feeling)_ and begins to drop. She sees nothing ( _but the blurring of pixels)_  and feels nothing, ( _where there should have been the wind, greeting her with its usual wishy washy feel)._ There is nothing, there will always be nothing, nothing but the blurring of pixels as she falls.

.

.

.

_Back and forth._

She crashes-

into the ground, feet first ( _and, despite all logic, all laws of nature, she is unhurt)._ Not a single strand of hair has been misplaced, nor a single piece of clothing been damaged. It is impossible,  _(but to ignore the impossible would be to refuse herself, her own being)_ but here, the world thrives on the impossible. She wishes she would at least feel the pain, for pain, at the very least, was better than the emptiness.

.

.

.

_Time is ticking._

She dies-

quickly and painfully  _(for only dying hurts, only dying has feeling, pain, emotion, passion,_ _ **life**_ _)._ A tombstone drops out of the air, and she is deconstructed  _(pixel by pixel, how she relishes the feeling)_  and reconstructed in an instant. She cannot move forwards or backwards, destined to float on, ghostly features waiting for that click of an [OK]. Pain courses through her as she is once again deconstructed. She welcomes it _(the pain, for it validates her existence),_  for this is the only feeling that she may experience. Sometimes, if she tries hard enough, she can pretend that death is not a sham,  **and that this time was the last,** and that she  _wouldn't_  wake up again, in town, safe.

.

.

.

_Sanity is lost._

She listens-

to the soft background music, always there, a constant source of irritation, slipping in behind carefully erected barriers of the mind. It attacks the sanity, and rubs the nerves raw. Once again, she is here ( _how could she have been so naïve, hope was for the stupid and there would never be a happy ending)_ in town, back from another pointless death  _(oh no, not pointless. Repetitive? Yes, but pointless? Never)._  She sobs, and wills her body to sink to it's knees, so that she may curl up into a tight little ball, and never have to see the light of day again. Her body refuses  _(for it is not hers, nothing is ever hers)_ and she opens her mouth in a silent scream. ( _I want to go home, I want my family, I want my friends!)_ She knows that no one will hear, and that even if they did, they wouldn't care.

.

.

.

_An unheard scream echoes._

_She wasn't the first, and she won't be the last, but she will be the most wretched, most pitiable of them all._

_She is a trapped soul, a lost soul, a tortured soul._

_She is Contracted, and continues to be, a never ending cycle of re-use, until the power in her body runs..._

**Author's Note:**

> *first quote - -Uninstall(Bokurano), Chiaki Ishikawa  
> *second quote - Uso(FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood), SID


End file.
